The Golden Downtown
The barometer in the apothecary window had fallen to a level that made the glass rattle in its frame, a low, persistent thrum that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth as he slammed his fist against the counter. He was forty-two, a man who had spent twenty years carrying the weight of other men’s orders, and now he was asking for a simple bottle of morphine for his brother, who was dying of a lung...
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